


i'm a go-getter guy with a gun on my hip

by slashmania



Series: their love is just so Ludo [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur believes in Throat Punch Thursday, Arthur can still kick butt, Awkward Cobb, Eames can as well, M/M, Original Character(s), Stalker, Violence, What Is Wrong With ME, creepy original character, poor attempts at humor in sort of dark story, self-defense is really important, trigger warnings for kidnapping/death/stalking, what is really wrong with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the desperate request of several grieving families, the team has been asked to extract from Greg, a suspect in several unsolved missing persons cases. The only thing that links them all together is the fact that each person had once been the mark's neighbor. To learn more about the mark, Arthur poses as his new neighbor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm a go-getter guy with a gun on my hip

**Author's Note:**

> A.N: I'm glad I'm not posting this on Valentine's Day because it would make me feel bad. This was an unexpectedly dark story but it fit my parameters for the series because it's based off of a Ludo song ("Go-Getter Greg") and has been written with an Arthur/Eames romance in mind. This isn't my favorite Ludo song, but it's one of the many songs that sounds like a story.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Inception. I don't own Ludo or their music. I don't own Throat Punch Thursday. I didn't find anything about Mashing Testicle Monday or Mashing Mammary Gland Monday, so blame me for those!

Arthur was elbow deep in his rental car’s trunk, trying to pry a cardboard box out, cursing over its weight. He didn’t believe the sharpie scrawl on the top and side of the box that claimed it only held ‘kitchen stuff’- for all he knew it was full of rocks. He was only pretending to be a new neighbor, already having stored his essentials in the small cramped apartment he had rented cheap under an alias. It was all for the job, all for this very important job.

  
They needed to run an extraction on their mark, a major suspect in several missing person cases. His name was Greg. There was no hard evidence to put this young man behind bars, but more than a handful of disappearances had occurred that were tenuously linked to the young man’s name and place of living.

  
Over the course of several years, families would tell stories about how their daughters or sons would go missing after being seen in Greg’s company or renting an apartment at this location. A few reported his strange behavior before their disappearances; that Greg was nice but kind of strange. That he was persistent and eager to spend time with them. That he was constantly offering to help with things around the apartment or showing up at social gatherings where he wasn’t invited or welcome.

  
After researching the cases, Arthur was inclined to believe that Greg was exhibiting all the signs of being a stalker. It was all there- his attraction to the new arrivals and many offers to help, his obsession and eagerness to insert himself in their lives or routines, and the way these things would escalate into full harassment. Stalking, following his new girlfriend or boyfriend with creepy dedication until the day they would suddenly fall off the face of the earth. And then he would start over.

  
Several of the families pooled their money and jumped at the first chance to hire an extraction team. They were too eager for their information, needing to know if he was the reason why their grown children hadn’t been found.

  
And that was how Arthur had reached this point; unpacking boxes and playing the bait because he was Greg’s type. Greg liked young men or young women; he preferred them to be single and alone, but some reports suggested that he could go after a person in a committed relationship with just as much ferocity. Many (but not all) happened to have dark hair and eyes.

  
Ariadne had volunteered to play the bait while they did their preliminary study of the man and his environment; finding the perfect moment to snatch him away and take him under with the PASIV.

  
All of them were particularly keen to discover the truth on this case. As a father, Cobb thought of his children and what it would be like to get one more monster off of the streets. Eames was disturbed, but unsurprised by the man’s behavior; already taking him apart and analyzing him, starting with his motivation, mental state, and personal history. Guys like Greg got under Arthur’s skin- he hated a person that didn’t understand the word no, the guy that took advantage of others, the jerk that scared someone for the hell of it.

  
So, Arthur asked Ariadne to please just build for them and not be the bait. Call it chivalry, but Arthur wasn’t willing to let Ariadne become another one of those missing people. The point man was just more confident in his ability to defend himself and incapacitate an attacker. Ariadne was only just starting to work on self-defense, taking tips from Arthur, a resident badass and excellent instructor (she was making great progress but was a little worried about hurting him, leading him to say things like, “Ariadne nothing says ‘don’t fuck with me’ better than a direct hit to the throat! So, come on, it’s Throat Punch Thursday and I want you to try it on me again without pausing or flinching!” )

  
Cobb and Eames were observing from a safe distance, ready to assist Arthur if he needed help.

  
But Arthur knew that it was too early in the game to expect violence or an assault- what would happen first would be much like a testing of the waters or a perusal of the deserts available in the buffet.

  
He heard the crunching of gravel and resisted the urge to turn around and spot his visitor.

  
“Oh, hello,” he heard a man say, only turning looking over his shoulder when the man was a foot or so away on the gravel topped driveway.

  
He spotted the man that fit Greg’s description and matched the most recent photos Arthur had saved to his file. Though they hadn’t managed to come up with a way to explain away a surveillance earpiece, Arthur could imagine Eames’s hushed council. He was sure that he would say _smile and loosen up, darling_.

  
Arthur smiled widely in just the way that Eames liked best- a flash of even, white teeth and endearing dimples. Greg was an average man in both appearance and build but managed to project this low-level sense of desperation. This was a lonely man who had a difficult time relating to others. But Arthur wasn’t going to let this first impression change the way he saw the mark or how he was going to deal with him.

  
Apparently, Greg liked what he saw during his first hesitant once-over, smiling brightly.

  
“Hi, you must be new,” then he laughed and tried to make a joke, “at least I guess you’re new to me!”

  
Arthur laughed at the weak attempt at humor. Greg moved on to his reason for popping up; that he had seen Arthur unpacking the car and thought he should go and help him out, “Since we’re neighbors now.”

  
Aside from that, Greg thought that all the other people in the apartment building were old or standoffish.

  
Arthur continued to smile at him and began to lift the box out of the trunk, frowning a little as he did so. It made Greg positively jump to his aid!

  
“Wherever are my manners? Let me get that heavy box!”

  
Greg didn’t even wait for Arthur’s answer before he reached for the box, his fingers purposefully brushing against Arthur’s own as they made the switch. It was over in moments and Greg now had his arms full with the heavy box of kitchen stuff (or just rocks), grunting a little at the unexpected weight but forcing himself to smile at Arthur.

  
“I’m Greg,” he said through labored breaths of air, following Arthur as he navigated the way to the apartment complex’s stairs. “I live in 207.”

  
Keeping his voice level and calm, pretending to be interested, Arthur laid it on thick. “Pleasure to meet you, Greg. I’m Arthur and I think I’m in the apartment just across the hall from you.”

  
He spotted a poster on the wall, finding their next conversational topic. “How neat, there’s a barbecue at the pool in a couple of days.” Arthur smiled at Greg, noticing how intent the other man became. “Maybe I’ll see you there?”

  
Greg nodded quickly, not wanting to talk while he huffed and puffed his way up the stairs to Arthur’s new apartment.

  
It took three trips but together they got every box into Arthur new apartment, Greg following Arthur like a loyal puppy.

 

* * *

  
Cobb wasn’t there, so when Greg knocked on Arthur’s door, Eames reported it.

  
“Your stalker boyfriend is here, darling.”

  
Arthur shot the other man a look; that look had felled big scary business men, gangsters, and assassins. It did nothing but make Eames’s smile widen.

  
The point man was busy running his fingers through his loose, product-free hair, annoyed that he had to wear it this way. He felt like a child, and it didn’t help that Eames had taken to pulling at one of his rebelliously curling locks till it was straight and then letting it go so it could bounce back into place. As he did this, he often accompanied the action with a silly sound-effect.

  
_“Boing!”_ Eames said softly, smiling at Arthur’s frowning reflection in the mirror.

  
Arthur could have told him to stop it, but he allowed it. He allowed many things, considering how Eames was mildly worried about Arthur’s playing the bait. It wasn’t that he didn’t think that Arthur could take care of himself; but he was worried all the same.

  
He slipped his arms around Arthur’s waist, fingers plucking at the soft material of the point man’s shirt. Eames rested his chin on Arthur’s shoulder and sighed.

  
“We should have said something to Cobb when he suggested I play your pretend boyfriend for this job.”

  
Arthur was counting the seconds that were passing. Greg was pretty good about letting a sufficient amount of time pass between his attempts at knocking on the door, but that didn’t mean he would give up and leave just because Arthur wanted to have a moment with his actual boyfriend who was pretending to be his fake one. It was a weird thought that Arthur tried not to think about too much. He knew that Eames was worried about him being in this position, even though Arthur had long since proven himself capable of kicking ass, taking names, and doing his job right.

  
It didn’t stop him from leaning against Eames, feeling reassured by his solid support. By his strength and stability.

  
“It’s okay, Eames.” Arthur took a deep breath. “The poolside barbecue was a hit- he’s clearly interested in me and is already displaying the signs from his previous relationships.”

  
Evidence of those signs was everywhere. Greg had given Arthur many ‘welcome to the building’ presents and offered to fix his leaky sink before management had the chance to let it sit for weeks and weeks. This week’s offering of flowers sat in a cheap vase and Arthur’s answering machine already had a series of messages from Greg; Greg calling to ask if Arthur needed anything, Greg calling to see if he’d call him back, Greg offering to hang out. If Arthur hadn’t known the number of disappearances Greg was suspected of having a hand in, he would feel sorry for him.

  
But it had gone on long enough, it was time to draw a line and see what Greg would do. It was why Eames was still in the small living room, hugging Arthur. Previously, Eames would be following Greg around as he did other non-Arthur related activities during the day, like going to work or running errands. Previously, whenever Greg visited and Eames was in the apartment with Arthur, he had hid in the restroom or bedroom.

  
Not today though. He let go of Arthur and allowed him to get to the door when Greg knocked once more, three quick raps, insistently reminding Arthur that someone was waiting for him in the hall. Not bothering to check the peephole, Arthur grabbed the handle and nodded to Eames.

  
When he opened the door he immediately began to laugh- his false laugh, his pretend laugh, as if Eames had just told him a great joke. Eames was smiling and looked every inch the capable and confident man that Arthur deserved in his life. He locked eyes with Greg briefly, making sure that he saw him pull Arthur’s body in close, claiming him.

  
Greg was flustered, moving with quick fidgety motions of his hands, straightening his unwrinkled shirt and swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. He hadn’t been expecting another man, then.

  
Arthur looked at Greg as if he were surprised.

  
“Oh, Greg! How are you doing?”

  
Greg cleared his throat. “Hey Arthur, I was just coming over to ask you…” Greg paused and shot a look at Eames who smiled at him, making sure that his arm stayed wrapped around Arthur’s waist.

  
“It’s just I haven’t seen you at the pool since the barbecue,” he shook his head slightly, looking frustrated with himself. “Not that I’ve been checking. I’ve got this thing at work this weekend and I was wondering if you didn’t have anything going on…?”

  
Greg left it open-ended, refusing to look at his rival, and focused on Arthur instead.

  
“I’m sorry, Greg,” Arthur said, managing to sound a little apologetic, but making it clear that he was taken. But before he could say anything else, Greg was jumping in!

  
“Hey, that’s cool, you’re busy, but we should hit up Jose O’ Flanagan’s for Jell-o-Shots.”

  
Arthur was slowly shaking his head, looking up at Eames with an expression the forger was familiar with. It was a look with inflection and intent. He would describe it as smoldering if he wasn’t sure that Arthur would hurt him a little. But there was a reason why Arthur was doing it right now. He was making a point and Eames had a feeling that it would be best for him to take the lead now.

  
He cleared his throat and smirked at Greg, who appeared to be straightening his back, making himself taller, even if he hadn’t even been slouching in the first place.

  
“Sorry, mate. We have other plans, but maybe we’ll see you there tomorrow.”

  
And then he reached for the door and slammed it shut.

  
He still had one arm wrapped around Arthur’s waist and tugged him in so he could press his lips close to his darling’s ear and whisper one word.

  
“ _Bang_.”

  
Arthur pulled away and smirked, eyes dancing, positively smoldering though he would deny it with his last breath.

  
“Right now?” He licked his lips and did the math. “Cobb will be back in an hour.”

  
Eames grinned, wolfish and predatory, grabbing for Arthur’s arm so he could drag the willing point man into the lone bedroom.

 

* * *

  
Greg didn’t have a chance.

  
After conferring with Cobb, going over the designs with Ariadne, and long since having confirmed that Greg wouldn’t have an adverse reaction to Yusuf’s Somnacin, they set the scene for the man’s extraction.

  
Over the few weeks he had been there, Greg had become attuned to his daily schedule. This time, when Arthur noticed Greg following him in the supermarket he didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he got on his cell phone and called Eames.

  
“Hey there, handsome,” Arthur almost purred into his phone, speaking loud enough that the creeping Greg would be able to hear him.

  
“I picked up for Eames,” Cobb said, sounding a little uncomfortable. “Why didn’t you tell me that you guys are actually dating? Didn’t you trust me?”

  
Arthur rolled his eyes and continued to do his shopping, stopping for paper towels and moving on, aware of Greg following him.

  
“I’ll be home soon, sweetheart.”

  
“Because, come on, I’d talked to you about Mal. I asked for advice.”

  
“And when I get there I’m going to rock your world.”

  
“My advice now is for you to stop talking like that- I’m your friend and your boss, but mostly your boss, so come on!”

  
Arthur smiled to himself, holding back his laughter as his voice dropped to a sultry note and he said, “ _I’ll definitely have you begging to come for me…_ ”

  
There was a flurry of crackling static noises and Arthur was afraid that Cobb had dropped the phone or accidentally ended the call. But he was reassured when he heard a few more noises, as if the phone was being handed off to someone else.

  
Then a dearly familiar voice said, “I sincerely hope that you aren’t planning on cheating on me with Cobb.”

  
“No, no,” Arthur said, still smiling as he made his way to checkout. “I’ll get there soon and then we can start.”

  
“Cobb had the call on speaker,” Eames was saying, all gruff and terribly interested. “I don’t think Cobb will be the same. Ariadne almost had to bite down on her fist to stop laughing.”

  
Arthur hummed in response, putting his items on the belt at checkout, smiling at the cashier as he listened to the forger talk.

  
“I took the call off speaker, just in case.”

  
Arthur smiled and shook his head, thinking to himself, _let Greg think that I’m being sweet talked by my boyfriend, let him think that I’m getting ready to enjoy a lovely afternoon with that man. Never mind that I just embarrassed my closest friend._

  
Eames laughed a little to himself, already knowing the game Arthur was playing.

  
“So, you aren’t going to talk yet, are you?”

  
“I’ll be home soon, don’t worry.”

  
Arthur ended the call and continued to see to his purchase even though he intended to leave it all in the parking lot.

  
He got out of the store, moving to where he had parked his car in the more secluded spot in the lot. It was in the very back and there weren’t many cars parked there at this hour of the morning.

  
The point man made a show of securing his cart and searching for his keys as he slipped his other hand into his pocket and wrapped his hand around one of his last minute purchases while he was still at checkout.

  
He heard Greg’s approach. By now, after all the research into the cases related to Greg, Arthur had an idea as to how Greg would go about cornering and subduing his prey. Arthur had been careful to never accept any food or drink from him (because some reports indicated the presence of spiked drinks at the apartment or at the poolside). Aside from forcing Arthur to follow him with physical violence or using a weapon, Arthur pegged Greg to be the type to use an array of drugs. The man was close now, closer than Arthur would have allowed.

  
So he was ready for Greg’s chlorine bleach and isopropyl alcohol soaked rag, catching the semi-sweet scent of it and forcing himself to stop breathing in. Arthur used his free arm to knock Greg’s away from his face, forcing the sodden rag to fall to the ground with a splat!

  
He spun on his heel and pulled his other hand from his pocket. Clenching his fist around the roll of quarters he purchased while in line at checkout, Arthur caught Greg by surprise when he punched him in the face. The other man moved, making the direct hit a glancing blow that pushed Greg back a few steps but clearly disoriented him. To make sure that he wasn’t going to get back up anytime soon, Arthur hit him again; this one was a solid uppercut to the chin. With the added weight from the quarters, Greg finally dropped like a rock and collapsed at Arthur’s feet.

  
Arthur stooped to check that Greg was still breathing and his pulse was strong. He opened the trunk and after carefully tying Greg up, Arthur forced the unconscious stalker inside and drove him to the separate location for the extraction.

 

* * *

  
It was a warehouse. As a team, they had all agreed that doing the extraction at the apartment was a bad idea- Arthur had already ran into several nosy tenants and didn’t want to explain to Mrs. Hobkirk the reason why Greg was in his trunk.

  
The mark’s face was swollen and bruises were already forming on his face. When he got there, the team came out to help him carry Greg.

  
When Ariadne spotted the marks on Greg’s face, she frowned at him.

  
“No throat punches today?”

  
Arthur hummed to himself, giving her the broken roll of quarters as he passed her by. “It’s not Throat Punch Thursday, Ariadne.”

  
She weighed the quarters in her hand, hearing the loose coins click together in her palm.

  
They hooked Greg up to the PASIV; Arthur helped Eames with his line, carefully inserting the needle and not resisting him when the other man pulled him down for a very brief kiss.

  
“Don’t give me a kiss,” Cobb said softly, lying on his own lawn chair near the mark with Eames lying on his own chair on the other side. He grabbed for Arthur’s arm and looked at him seriously. “But, you know. Come over with Eames for dinner sometime. The kids want to see their uncle.”

  
Arthur smiled and nodded, pleased with Cobb’s acceptance of his relationship and already enjoying the idea of visiting the children.

  
He hooked himself up to the PASIV and lay on his own lawn chair next to Eames, sighing and preparing himself for what was to come.

  
“Okay?” Eames asked, watching carefully. They had spoken about how he felt, considering that he had spent the better part of two weeks playing the object of Greg’s affection, thinking about how things could go wrong, silently worrying over the people that had come before him. Could they do it? Would they be able to tell the grieving families who hired them anything that would put them at peace? Would they be able to get justice for their children?

  
Dreamshare, while now recognized legally for therapy, didn’t have a solid place in a court of law. Yet.

  
It was very possible that the ‘evidence’ they found in Greg’s head could be discounted as some kind of mumbo-jumbo.

  
Unless they could use it to find the lost people who could explain what happened to them. Or, if the people had been killed, they could find where the bodies had been buried…

  
Arthur shrugged it off and looked at Eames. “I’m fine. Let’s get him to talk.”

  
He looked at Ariadne, who was playing sentinel for them. She rolled her eyes at him.

  
“I’ve got it covered.”

  
Arthur gave her another, more serious look. “And what will you do if someone comes in to say hello?”

  
The architect smiled. “It’s Mashed Testicle Monday.”

  
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And if your assailant happens to not have testicles?”

  
“Mashed Mammary Gland Monday,” Ariadne substituted smoothly. When Arthur didn’t look impressed she glared him down, speaking with authority.

  
“Do you know how much it hurts to get punched in the boob, Arthur? Speaking as a woman, I can say that it hurts enough to probably stop someone from trying to immediately hurt me or my sleeping comrades.”

  
Before she could go into any greater detail, Arthur waved one hand. “Very good. Give us the kick when necessary.”

  
Their architect nodded solemnly and pressed the button on the PASIV, allowing them to drop into the dream, where they would hopefully find the answers they needed.

 

* * *

  
Arthur didn’t want to relive that dream. He didn’t want to think about the levels. He didn’t want to think about how it could have been him; maybe if he wasn’t fast, or deadly, or even lucky, he could have been one of the missing people that Greg had found a way to keep as his own forever.

* * *

 

  
“Greg,” Cobb had asked, his face serious as they stood in a vault, looking at piles of photos. Each photo was of a person; many were of a young dark haired man or woman.

Their eyes were closed, so they couldn’t tell whether or not their eyes were dark as well. “Where are they? Where did you put them all?”

  
Greg was smiling to himself, much calmer and more at ease than he had ever been in the waking world. Maybe he had more conviction here, maybe he wasn’t as afraid.

  
“I told them all,” he said so softly, like he was sharing a secret that was too big to be held in the vault Ariadne had built for him. “I’d told them that I’d given it some thought and that I’d really thought that they could use a guy like me in their lives.” He smiled again, beatific and pleased.

  
“Looking after them. A man to take them home, a hand for them to hold, and I’d never _ever_ leave them alone. And the best part is that, this way, they’ll always be mine and mine alone.”

  
Eames was glad that Arthur was dreaming the first level. That he wouldn’t have to hear this. The point man was aware of his own mortality, he had been aware of the risks he was taking, too. He clenched his fists when he saw the look on Greg’s face, how maybe the guy recognized him. But the moment passed and Cobb took the opportunity to extract the rest of the information. If they gave this information to the authorities and it led to Greg’s arrest, it would be better than strangling him right now.

  
At least that was what Eames told himself. Then he listened to what Greg had planned, what he had done to his girlfriends and boyfriends. Eames swiftly changed his mind after that.

 

* * *

  
When Arthur woke up it was to the sight of Eames beating the crap out of Greg.

  
Springing up from his chair, Arthur moved to drag the forger away from the still prone and dreaming mark.

  
“Do you want to accidentally kick him awake early?” Arthur hissed, forcing Eames to look him in the face, but couldn’t manage it before looking away. The point man’s lips thinned to a foreboding line.

  
“How mad should I be about what you found?” Arthur asked Cobb, who had taken longer to detach himself from the machine, standing with Ariadne and watching Eames harm the mark without interfering.

  
“He killed them and buried them in shallow graves near various campsites and hiking trails in the area. So he could keep them. We have the locations; we could give an anonymous tip to the police and let this play out to the end.”

  
Greg, no longer bothered by a vengeful forger, lay sleeping and unaware of the swift justice coming his way.  
Arthur nodded, satisfied.

  
“Let’s clean up and move on.”

 

* * *

  
Arthur didn’t pay attention to the proceedings though it was all over the news. Greg’s arrest, the interviews with the families of the deceased, and the statements from the police concerning the investigation and those of the lawyer appointed to defend Greg.

  
His part in that story was over- now he just wanted to get back to something normal, something safe.

  
Arthur felt that when he was curled up in bed with Eames. They did nothing more than hold each other tightly, and tried to not think about the many _what if’s_ of this job. Arthur wasn’t terrified. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t even feeling particularly insecure. He had been in control of the situation in the parking lot- he had been aware, strong, and frighteningly capable. But it didn’t stop him from thinking about the others who might not have known how to defend themselves or the ones that had found Greg to be a little strange but not threatening. Until the end, of course.

  
It was over now. Things would be better, once they had a chance to move on from this experience. Regardless, they didn’t sleep for quite awhile and instead spoke to each other softly.

 


End file.
